


we will meet again.

by caprinaen



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Story Series | Digimon World Series, Digimon Story: Cyber Sleuth, Digimon Story: Hacker's Memory
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Implied Relationship, Or Platonic if you Want, POV Second Person, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27816154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caprinaen/pseuds/caprinaen
Summary: Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.(Or: Keisuke, and a promise to keep.)
Relationships: Amazawa Keisuke/Mishima Erika
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	we will meet again.

Everyone thinks you’re crazy when you say you’re going to find a way to connect to the “Digital World”.

Ryuji gives you a deadpan look. He thinks you’re joking. He’s waiting for the punchline that’s never going to come. Chitose laughs as if you’ve become a master comedian. Even Yu chuckles—but he realizes faster than anyone else how serious you are.

“The Digital World?” he asks, in private, as you’re pulling up countless files on computer programming that’s more advanced than anything you’ve attempted before. The lights from the screen reflect in his thoughtful eyes.

You nod, confirming the words. You don’t remember too much nowadays, but there’s an image of a butterfly imprinted in your mind, and you can almost hear her voice when you’re tempted to slack off and sleep the rest of the day away. There’s someone you have to meet.

There’s a promise you’ve got to keep.

While picking up new computer parts in Nakano Broadway, you meet this guy with bright red hair and fancy goggles—a detective’s assistant, who for some reason insists that you come and talk to his employer.

The woman is sleek and chic, and her coffee is the absolute worst stuff you’ve ever tasted, but she seems quite intrigued by what she calls your “wistful amnesia”—she has it too. You’re expecting her to be nothing but cold logic about your musings of a girl you remember but have no proof of. At best, you’re thinking she’ll offer to keep an eye out for your “missing person” who could’ve just been one of a million anonymous people you met online years ago that you’ve confused with something or someone else.

But Kyoko Kuremi only smiles at that.

“That’s one possible solution. But say there’s more to it than that?” She crosses her legs as she talks. “My assistant says he recognizes you from the Once Upon a Butterfly message boards.”

Oh. That.

A year ago, on a whim, you made a subthread on a popular discussion site with a title in reference to that famous musing of a Chinese philosopher, Zhuangzi. You asked people in general if there’s something that makes them nostalgic despite having never experienced it. For some reason, the thread took off, and is always being updated with new posts from thousands of people who claim remembering encounters with strange creatures, or a world that let them look how they wanted, or individuals they once knew—all manner of things. The blue and white Hudie butterfly that adorns your coat (a creation of Ryuji’s) ended up becoming the symbol for it. How the assistant knew you are for sure the creator of the board, you’re not sure, but when you look over at the guy, he just winks.

You ask the detective what she means.

“Nothing in particular. My assistant and I are members of that board as well, is all. If you’d ever like to discuss your memories or lack thereof in person, we can do so over coffee.”

She’s quite friendly. The boy is too.

When you leave the detective agency, you see a black cat staring at you. It walks away when you approach, much to your chagrin.

Ryuji and Chitose get jobs working for Kamishiro. You start out there too once you graduate high school, because you need the money, and tech positions are booming. You keep hammering away at your nonsensical dream to see the Digital World in your free time. You don’t let it consume you, but you never let the project sit for too long either. Yu is quietly supportive, coming by with food and listening to you talk about your ghost memories. You appreciate his kindness.

She had a beluga whale doll, you tell him. Two of them. Maybe more?

“And she hit you with it?” Yu says, bewildered, trying to understand.

Repeatedly.

“What else?”

You tell him about how she was a master hacker, about how she had a virtual partner that was as intelligent as she was.

Yu muses, “An advanced AI?”

Sure. You decide to go with that. You leave out the part of her being related to Ryuji. You leave out what happened to her and Wormmon—only saying that they both had to go away.

Late that very evening, you have a breakthrough.

You remember your own Digimon quite suddenly, with such startling clarity that your fingers freeze in the middle of coding the incredibly sophisticated digital avatar program you’ve been building.

The word itself startles you.

_Digimon!_

Memories that had gone blurry with time turn razor sharp. You tackle your work with a renewed fervor. You’ve been typing with your visor on because it lets you see a specific screen made just for viewing your carefully constructed models, but you’re certain you heard something just then, a voice through the ear piece.

_“Let me help.”_

The last program of this sort had been called EDEN. You’re calling this BABYLON. It’s going to be your magnum opus.

But it takes time.

Birthdays come and go.

Your hair grows longer. You pull it back into a ramshackle ponytail. The message board—Once Upon a Butterfly—never slows down in posts. You have coffee with Kuremi and her assistant once a month. You meet Fei and Yuuko and Yuugo for lengthy food tours. Holidays pass. Yu gets taller, looks even prettier than he ever has before. Chitose starts to look serious about his girlfriend. Ryuji—

Ryuji asks to speak to you.

You give him a blank, curious look as you type away in the “VIP” room of the internet café that Ryuji’s family still owns, though most of the day to day activities have gone to the girl who has long worked the front desk. Ryuji stares at you from the doorway, his stern face and dark eyes quite reminiscent of the dragon statues near the shrines.

“You’ve been dreaming of a girl with a coat like ours, haven’t you?”

The old blue Hudie coat. Yes. Their team emblem. You nod.

He doesn’t say much else, just observes you as you work. You’re too nervous to do much but show him the program. It’s coming along quite impressively. You’re not sure why, but you think it’s crucial that you’re able to simulate a world, that you build a virtual landscape for the Digimon to walk on. Your virtual sky has to reach that place. The horizons must cross.

The next day, you come back to the café afterhours to work, as you usually do, and there’s brand new, top of the line equipment waiting for you in your room.

It’s spring when everything changes. Cherry blossoms are lining the streets around Ueno, and there’s butterflies in the air, drawn to the scent of flowers and nectar. You’re making your way back from a meeting with Arata and Nokia and the detective’s assistant, and you’re startled when you step into the café and see a blue light leaking out from the crack beneath the door.

You let yourself in. This is _your_ room after all. No one’s allowed in here! With permission from Ryuji, you basically foot the bill to rent it out all month, every month. It’s not been a storage room in a long time.

Your computer is on.

The screen is so brilliant that it hurts your eyes.

It’s bright like a sky that has touched another.

Something draws you to it. The visor you’ve left on the desk is flashing in urgency, wanting your attention for something. You sit down. You put it on. The HUD that washes over and drowns out your sight isn’t your usual VR display.

You barely have time to reflect on the nostalgia before you black out.

…You’re not sure how long you’ve been unconscious. Maybe it’s been only a moment. Maybe it’s been hours. You open your eyes, and you don’t know what you’re looking at.

There’s an ocean in front of you, though it’s not like any sea you’ve seen before. There’s buildings sticking out of it. Tilted sideways, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but they look brand new rather than crumbling and ruined. You touch the water as it whispers up the sand. It looks real, certainly _feels_ real with how it wets your fingertips. You sit up and notice your visor is around your neck. That’s how you made your avatar look, yes…just like the you from a few years ago.

You’re not old by any means. Scarcely pushing into your adulthood in real life. But the “you” here is as you think she’d remember you. Would want to see you.

Behind you, the trees are plugged into the earth. Literally plugged. One’s toppled over and you see the little pronged bits that should be inserted into the appropriate area. It’s so ludicrous that you laugh. The sound seems too loud, so you quickly go quiet, but there doesn’t appear to be any danger.

You put your visor back on.

You feel as if there’s something you should be doing. Someone you should be looking for. Not just _her_ , of course, not just the girl you’re oh so certain exists. You need to see someone else too.

Your first Digimon. Your partner. You asked them—all of them—to look after her, but your _first_ one, you think, surely must still be here, if no one else is. A Vanguard for the Digital World…the memory twists your lips into a wry smile.

You run a program and put out a call for that Digimon, your most faithful, your strongest. If anyone would recognize your coding…

It’s not an understatement to say you are literally crushed when your Digimon appears from the blue after a short time. They’re even stronger than you remember, but you recognize their eyes right away. The teary reunion is interrupted by your Digimon’s eager insistence that you go see Hudiemon, and just hearing those words makes you almost cry all over again.

Hudiemon. Wormmon.

_Her._

You ask how she’s been as your Digimon takes you across the Digital World—a place where meat literally grows on trees and everything has quaint names like File City and Gear Savannah. Your Digimon refuses to answer, only saying that you should ask her yourself. Though not as fast as the likes of Ulforceveedramon, your Digimon gets you to your destination.

It’s…an aquarium.

Sort of?

You’re taken to a maze of tunnels that have translucent walls. Through them, you see all manner of sea Digimon. They’re not on display, this place is just projecting, you realize. It’s just showing you undersea life, like a camera.

You enter a room.

And you see her.

Hudiemon’s enormous blue wings are unmistakable. Blue butterfly wings, like the sort you see out of the corner of your eyes sometimes, following you down hallways, dancing out of sight around corners. The top part of her face is more akin to a mask and doesn’t emote really, but you see her jaw literally drop open, and all you can do is stand there like an absolute moron because now…

Now you don’t know what to say.

Hey Erika, you settle on, and your Digimon lets out a snort of laughter.

She flutters down. Alights in front of you. How long has it been since she’s heard that name? You’re expecting her to scold you for taking so long, or to roll her eyes at your blithe greeting, so you scratch your cheek and try your best to curry favor with a pleading look.

Hudiemon smiles at you, and for the first time since the world reset...everything feels _right_.

"We heard you," you said quietly, remembering her final words. "I love you too."

The air is suddenly so thick with feeling that the words choke in your throat.

" _We_ love you!" you try to amend, but by that point, it's too late to take back. Hudiemon stiffens a moment.

"...You're still an idiot," she mutters, and it's so fond, the way she hugs you.

**Author's Note:**

> this was going to be a drabble  
> i don't know what happened  
> don't judge too hard plz i just wanted to have them reunite  
> i'm considering doing a second part to this since it went on so long. if that interests anyone let me know  
> thanks for reading!


End file.
